“There’s no use chasing them. I’ve been to Belize after other fugitives and it’s damned near impossible to find them. We don’t have time to spend months searching the jungle.”
“So now what? We just give up? Harlan and Lonnie get away with this, and Raine spends the rest of her life watching her back?”
A slow smile spread across Chase’s face. “Oh, no,” he drawled. “There’s more than one way to stop Harlan, and Ren and I found one.”
Intrigued, Trey studied him. Chase’s expression was unashamedly satisfied. “Mind telling me what you did?”
“We found a way to blackmail him. I just left Harlan’s office, where I told him that if he so much as blinked in Raine’s direction in the future, I’d inform a certain senator about the affair Harlan’s been having with his wife. I have photos — explicit photos.”
“I’m impressed. How did you find out about this?”
“Through a disgruntled ex-lover who gave the pictures to a good friend of my mother.” Chase looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. I want to talk to Raine tonight, if she’ll see me,” he added.
“Good luck with that,” Trey said dryly. “I doubt she’s going to be easy to convince.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”
Chase was halfway to the door before Trey remembered. “Did Ren give you the message about Lonnie?”
Chase stopped. “No. What about Lonnie?”
Trey explained and Chase’s face took on a dangerous cast.
He stalked out of the apartment.
Trey let out a sigh. Now that Harlan and Lonnie had been effectively stopped and his sister was safe, he was free to return to Granger. And Lori. God, he missed her.
He looked at his watch. Too late to call tonight, he thought. I’ll call tomorrow.
But the following morning he couldn’t reach her. No one answered her home phone, she didn’t respond to her cell, and she wasn’t at her office.
Frustrated, he left the saloon and drove to the Wolf Creek Cemetery, where he’d promised to meet Chase and Raine.
Chase’s announcement that Raine had agreed to marry him didn’t surprise Trey. His next words, however, did.
“She said yes, if I could let go of the past. As of today, I’ll stop searching for whoever wrote the letter you received. I’m going to concentrate on being Raine’s husband and, hopefully, someday a father to our children. We thought it was fitting to tell Mike —” he cleared his throat “— to tell Mike what we’re doing, and why, and ask for his blessing.”
“You can’t be serious?” Trey hadn’t expected this. He glanced at the waist-high granite marker where his hand rested. Mike’s gravestone was cold to the touch, despite the warmth of the day. “You’re going to turn your back and walk away — never follow up on the only clue that might uncover what really happened to Mike?”
“I’m not saying I’ve forgotten how Mike died that night, nor that I wouldn’t like to see Lonnie brought to justice. But I want a life with Raine more.” Chase’s voice rang with quiet conviction. “You need to let it go, too, Trey. Mike wouldn’t want you to waste your life searching for proof that might not even exist.”
Before Trey could argue, Raine spoke. “We want your blessing, too, Trey, as well as Mike’s.”
He realized instantly that there was nothing more to say. Raine needed this closure, deserved a chance to have a life out from beneath the sadness that had shadowed them for so long.
“You have it,” he said. “Of all the people in the world, no one is more deserving of a chance to start married life free of old history.”
Tears welled in her gray eyes and spilled over to track slowly down her cheeks. “Thank you, Trey,” she said softly.
“I’m sure Mike would say the same.” He stepped toward her and held out his arms. “Be happy,” he whispered against her hair as he hugged her tight. Over her head his gaze met Chase’s in silent understanding.
Harlan was beyond furious. He stared at the grainy copies of the photos taken of him and the senator’s wife in bed.
How the hell had Chase McCloud gotten them?
His eyes narrowed as he calculated the odds that McCloud might get access to the other photos, the ones Sherry O’Connell claimed were taken fifteen years ago.
He strode across the office and yanked open the door. “Lonnie,” he bellowed. “Get in here.”
It was time to send Lonnie to Granger.
Trey spent the afternoon clearing off his desk and arranging for Sam, Charlotte and Raine to cover for him. Worried at first, their concern turned to smiles when they realized he was going back to Granger to court Lori.
He had a new SUV, purchased earlier in the week, and his bag was packed, loaded in the back by nine that night. But his plan to leave was thwarted when Luke and his sister Jessie’s husband Zach arrived with John McCloud, Chase and Andy Jones.
“We’ve got a free evening, Trey.” Luke carried a couple of six-packs of beer and Chase held a container of what smelled like barbecued chicken. “The women are at Dad’s house, talking to Mom about holding Chase and Raine’s wedding there. We were officially evicted and decided to hold an early bachelor party. Here.”
Trey grinned. “Come on in.”
An hour later, they were sprawled around the living room, watching a ball game on the flat-screen TV, drinking beer and arguing over whose team was going to win.
The phone rang and Andy, seated closest to it, picked it up.
“Yeah?” Pause. “Just a minute. Trey — it’s for you.”
“Who is it?” Trey asked as he levered himself off the sofa and crossed the room to take the phone.
Andy shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
It must be Raine, Trey thought, wondering if she was going to tell him he had to wear a tux to her wedding. “Hello.”
“Trey? It’s Lori.”
At almost the same time that Trey was meeting Chase and Raine at the Wolf Creek Cemetery, Lori’s cell phone rang in Granger.
That’s odd, she thought, glancing at the Caller ID and recognizing her home phone number. Mom doesn’t usually call me on my cell.
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“Lori.” Risa’s voice shook and was nearly inaudible. “Thank God I reached you.”
“Mom?” She dropped the file she was holding and stood. “What’s wrong?”
“A man — he forced his way into the house — he hit me…” Risa’s voice broke on a sob.
Clutching the phone to her ear, Lori ran down the hall and through the archway.
“Butch,” she called as she raced past the end of the long bar. “Call 911. I need an ambulance at the house.” Lori barely registered Butch’s alarm as he grabbed the phone before she was out the front door of the bar. She sprinted down the sidewalk.
“Mom? Are you there? Mom! Talk to me.”
“I’m here. Are you coming home?”
“I’m on my way. Is the man still in the house?”
“No.” Risa’s voice wavered. “He left.”
“Thank God,” Lori said with relief, dragging in a long breath. “Did he hurt you?”
“He hit me — my lip is bleeding. He wrecked the living room.”
“But you’re not — hurt — otherwise?” Without looking, she ran onto the crosswalk, dodging the pickup truck that slammed on its brakes and slewed sideways to barely miss her.
“No.”
“I’m almost there.” The six blocks from downtown to home felt like six miles as Lori ran, trying to breathe and talk at the same time.
“Hurry.”
She yanked open the screen door and flew into the house.
Risa sat curled on the sofa, the phone held to her ear. The shoulder of her dress was torn, her hair in disarray and she was missing one shoe.
Lori’s heart clenched, fearing the worst.
“Mom?” She knelt in front of the sofa and tried to take Risa’s free hand in hers. “Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t hurt you?”
&
nbsp; “He broke my necklace.” Risa lowered the phone from her ear and held out her other hand, opening her fist to reveal a handful of loose pearls. “The one your father gave me.”
“It’s okay, Mom, we’ll fix it.” Lori fought to keep the panic from her voice as she scanned Risa’s face. Her lip was puffy and there was a small cut at one corner, but other than that, she couldn’t see any obvious damage.
Sirens wailed in the street outside. Within seconds, two emergency medical technicians appeared at the screen door.
“Medic One.” The male voice was deep, reassuring.
“Come in,” Lori called over her shoulder.
“What happened?” An EMT knelt beside her, opening his bag.
“She says a man broke into the house and attacked her,” Lori told him.
“If you’ll move aside, Lori, we’ll take a look.”
“Of course.” Lori did as they asked. Ben, the older of the two paramedics was in his forties, and Lori had known him since she was fourteen and broke her collarbone falling off the swing at the park.
“Morning, Risa,” Ben said to her mother, his voice soothing. “Let’s take a look at that lip. Are you having pain anywhere else?”
Lori paced away from the sofa to the window and back, hugging herself, listening closely as the two men assessed Risa.
“She’ll be fine. We won’t take her to the hospital tonight but you might want to schedule an appointment with her regular physician tomorrow so he can give her a thorough exam,” Ben told Lori while his partner repacked the bag. “Do you want me to call her doctor and ask him to prescribe something to calm her and help her sleep tonight?”
“Thanks, Ben, but she has sedatives the doctor gave her after Dad passed away. I’ll have her take one before she goes to bed, unless you think she should have one sooner?”
“Your call — or hers, if she feels she needs one.”
A Sheriff’s Office car stopped out front.
Ben glanced out the window. “Reid’s here. I’ll just let him in — why don’t you go to your mom.”
Lori nodded her thanks and went to sit next to Risa on the sofa. Her mother looked up and smiled wanly when the sheriff entered.
“My goodness. First the ambulance, now a sheriff’s car parked outside the house — the neighbors will be gossiping for weeks.”
“They’re just jealous because their lives are so boring, Risa,” Reid chided her gently. “What happened here?”
For the first time since racing through the front door, Lori took in the condition of the living room. Drawers from the antique writing desk were tipped upside down on the floor, their contents spilled onto the carpet. From her seat on the couch, she had a clear view into the dining room and further destruction.
“He went upstairs and I heard him ransacking the bedrooms.” Risa twisted her hands together, her face paling.
“What was he looking for? Did he tell you?”
Risa nodded, her eyes full of misery as she looked at Lori. “He said he wanted the copies of the photos. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about, but he wouldn’t listen. He just kept pulling out drawers and dumping everything.”
Lori shook her head, disoriented. “What photos, Mom?”
“The photos Sherry gave me before she left town. Remember, I told you Sherry had to go away and she asked me to do her a favor?”
Lori nodded. “Yes, I know, but what does that have to do with the man who hit you?”
“He wanted the photos in the envelope Sherry left with me. It wasn’t supposed to be him, Lori. Sherry said she wrote and told Trey to come get them.”
“Trey?” Lori couldn’t seem to grasp what her mother was telling her. “Are you saying Trey Harper had something to do with the man who attacked you?”
“No, no.” Risa fluttered her hands, becoming more agitated. “Sherry sent Trey a letter and told him to come to Granger and she’d give him the photos, but then she had to leave town. So she called and left a message on his machine to tell him he should see me instead. But then the awful man arrived and started tearing up the house.”
“Do you understand any of this?” Reid asked Lori.
“I’m afraid not.” She shook her head. “I’ve noticed Sherry has seemed stressed and worried over the past few months but I thought it was because her sister was so ill.”
“Breast cancer,” Risa interjected, her face sad. “She passed away several weeks ago.”
“I remember,” Reid said. “Must have been hard on the family, losing her like that.”
“Sherry seemed to take it especially badly,” Lori agreed.
“She was devastated,” Risa said. “Sherry wanted to take her to a treatment clinic in Mexico, but at the last minute, she couldn’t get cash. It was very expensive, over a quarter of a million dollars, but she truly believed it would save her sister.” Risa sighed. “And then her sister died. Sherry blames the man who refused to give her the money.”
“It’s terribly sad,” Lori agreed, patting her mother’s hand. “But what’s the connection between Sherry, the envelope with photos she gave you, Trey Harper, and the man who broke into our house?”
“I have no idea.” Risa looked as bewildered as Lori felt.
They both stared at Reid.
The sheriff lifted his hands and let them drop, shaking his head. “Neither do I. But it bears looking into, since it appears the envelope is what the man was looking for. Would you recognize him if you saw a photo of him, Risa?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Why don’t you come by the station sometime tomorrow afternoon and go through the wanted posters. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Of course. I’d be glad to.”
“In the meantime, I’m going to assign a deputy to keep watch outside your house in a patrol car tonight. I doubt your attacker will return, but I’m sure you’ll feel safer with an officer nearby.” He left with their grateful thanks, promising to contact them the moment he had any information.
“Would you like to lie down, Mom? Or can I make you some tea?”
“Tea would be nice, Lori.”
Risa’s movements lacked their usual energy, and she lowered herself gingerly into a chair at the small table beneath the window looking out on the garden. She smoothed her hair and fingered her torn shoulder seam. “I must look awful.”
“No, you don’t,” Lori assured her, turning to inspect her mother while filling the kettle. “You look fabulous, as always.”
She was rewarded with a pale imitation of Risa’s normal laugh. The sound was muted, but it was definitely a chuckle, Lori thought with relief.
“Thank you, dear. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t tell you often enough how much I appreciate you.”
“Oh, Mom.” Lori’s heart lurched when Risa’s eyes filled with tears and she dropped her face into her hands. Leaving the kettle half-filled on the counter, she rushed across the room to wrap her mother in a hug. “It’s going to be all right, Mom,” she soothed. “Reid will catch this person and we’ll get to the bottom of whatever’s going on, I promise.”
Risa held on tight for a moment, then eased back. “I know we will. I have faith in Reid.” She cupped Lori’s cheek. “And in you.” She drew in a deep breath. “Now, about that tea.”
They drank their tea at the sunny kitchen table, Lori listening as Risa described her latest trip to Billings.
“I think you should draw him.”
Risa’s comment came out of the blue, startling Lori, who’d been listening to a description of the romantic comedy Risa and her friend had taken in at the movie theater.
“Draw who?”
“The man.” Risa’s eyes lit with purpose. “I can tell you what he looks like and you can sketch him, just like those police artists do on TV.”
“I don’t know,” Lori said doubtfully. “I’m not sure I can — police sketch artists are specially trained.”
“But you’re very good at drawing people,” Risa insis
ted. “Let’s try it.”
Not wanting to upset her, Lori let Risa urge her into the closet where she’d packed away her pencils and sketch pads. They returned to the kitchen where the light was good, and began.
Two hours and several pots of tea later, Risa leaned over Lori’s shoulder. “Yes, that’s him. No doubt about it,” she said triumphantly. “I knew you could do it. You’re a wonderful artist, Lori.”
“Mmm,” Lori responded, distracted by the face she’d drawn on the pad. It was almost handsome, though a certain air of dissipation was implicit in the heavy lines of cheeks and jaw. Lori didn’t recognize him, but with luck, the sheriff, or Trey, would.
“Let’s take it to Reid’s office now, Mom,” she said, picking up the pad. “Maybe it’s not as precise as a photo, but hopefully he can use it.” And I’ll ask him to make a copy for me so I can send it to Trey. She couldn’t help but wonder if the mystery surrounding Trey being hijacked was connected to the attack on Risa.
That evening, Lori waited until her mother was asleep before telephoning Trey. She left the office door ajar, in case Risa woke and needed her. Tucking the phone between shoulder and ear, she dialed information and slipped the copy of her drawing onto the scanner, closing the lid just in time to jot down Trey’s phone number.
It took only a few moments to scan the drawing, save it to a file and attach it to an e-mail. Then she dialed Trey.
“Yeah?”
Startled, she paused. “Hello. I’m trying to reach Trey Harper.”
“Just a minute.” The strange male voice was less clear as he said, “Trey, it’s for you.”
She could make out the rise and fall of men’s voices and what sounded like the clink of glasses.
“Hello.”
She drew in a sharp breath, only now realizing she’d needed to hear his voice ever since Risa had called her cell phone earlier that day. She felt instantly safer.
“Trey, it’s Lori.”
“Lori? Where are you?”
“I’m in Granger. Something happened to Mom today and I need you to…”
“Hold on a second. It’s noisy here. I’m going into the next room.” The sound faded and she heard a door slamming. “Tell me that again — what about your mom?”
“A man broke into the house today and terrified Risa.”
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